The Hours of Darkness
by Sputnik2006
Summary: Post OotP 6th year RR Harry's dreams carry him into a new battle against the Dark Lord, facing all sorts of dark creatures and some interesting new turns. Rating just to be careful. Note: this will be long Chappie 4 repost (fixing errors)
1. Dreams

Ok. here goes. *starts dramatic music**cd player's batteries die*  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The Hours of Darkness By Sputnik2006 Author's Note: Ok, this is my first Harry Potter fic, please be reasonable if/when you review. Constructive criticism is nice. Flames light the candles of my shrine to Sirius so they are of no use to you. Banish any thoughts of their use. Please. See? I'm such a considerate human being. I asked nicely. Let's see, more notes on the fic. There is no slash, sorry to disappoint you pro-slash types. I have nothing against people who go that way but J.K.R. didn't write the characters that way and to that I hold true. Okays? Second, the title sucks. I'll agree with you there if that's what you are currently thinking. If you're not.Are you in league with the thesaurus from Microsoft Word? 'Cause that's where the title came from. Stupid thing says it's a synonym for night. I suppose it makes sense but honestly. Would YOU walk around calling night the hours of darkness? Ok, enough notes. But before we get on with the fic.  
  
Disclaimer: Ain't mine. Nope. Not one bit of it. I ain't getting payed. I ain't getting any fame from writing this.well, no more than the average beginning fanfic writer. And I ain't going to say that ain't ain't a word 'cause it IS. It's in the dictionary so NYAH!  
  
Prologue: Nighttime Sights  
  
Privet Drive at night was a fairly different experience for passerby than it would be during the day, for many reasons. One of the most obvious was that it was dark, meaning most of the street's inhabitants were cozy in bed, on the sofa, and in the case of some, on cots in tents out of doors. This however was a rare occurrence, for the people of Privet Drive were a rather dull lot who thought it scandalous to sleep outside unless forced to by some quarreling spouse. And then they were thankful that a certain Petunia Dursley was not sharing in their humiliation seeing as how she also would be asleep and therefor unawares to it all. This was another large difference between night and day. Those who passed by could do so without coming under the glare of the long-necked hawk.  
  
Lastly, if one decided to stroll past 4 Privet Drive on a midnight journey they would be able to find a solitary light on, a square of white amidst a sea of black and glowing orange. That person would never know how remarkable the room's occupant was. They might feel some sympathy to the poor person who shared in the inability to sleep but would pass by with no thought more. They would never know how important the boy by the window was, never know that he was in many ways their one hope should a certain Dark Lord decide to destroy them and their families.  
  
Harry could not help but envy their ignorance.  
  
Harry lay propped up on his elbow in bed, watching Hedwig eat her night's catch, a small mouse, or perhaps a vole. He was not sure. Nor did he very much care. There were some things that were better left unknown. In his opinion if Hedwig felt she could eat it it was fine with him. He had nothing better to do though so watch her finish her meal he did.  
  
Nights were a large pain in Harry's life, and sometimes, though he hated to admit to it, his scar, which prickled at the slightest change in Voldemort's temper lately. Those few dreams that were not nightmares often brought about horrible visions of some plot or another of the Dark Lord's weaving, whether false or not Harry was unsure. He didn't like to dwell on it.  
  
Hedwig hooted softly and glided soundlessly from the room. Harry sighed. He could always find something else to hold his attention. At least it would be less bloody....With another sigh he rolled out of bed to shut off the light. Something he had learned last summer when Voldemort had first returned: you can't run from dreams forever.  
  
Sooner or later you have to go to sleep.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter One: Dreams  
  
His first dream was not unfamiliar to him. He was walking the halls of the Ministry of Magic, filled with a dread that made him scream at his sleeping self to wake up. But it never worked. Down he went in the elevator he had seen those few times before in real life, twisted in the dream world to be cold and dim, getting more unpleasant and faintly smelling of rot and mildew as the floors passed by. Through the doors into the Department of Mysteries. The smell grew stronger, making Harry's stomach heave. He wished it would end, the smell, the dread, the knowledge of what would come next but he knew it was hopeless. Dreams had never ended when he wished them to.  
  
Through doors and corridors, always pushing on, always wanting to go back. The smell grew. The scent of rotten flesh permiated the whole of the underground labyrinth 'til Harry felt he would retch if he had been there in real life. Through one last door, down into a pit and there it was, the object that fouled the whole place. An arch. A plain, old arch with a scrap of cloth in front. One of Harry's greatest fears.  
  
No, he did not really fear it, he knew. What he really felt was guilt.  
  
In the dim dream-light Harry saw the veil shiver, as though touched by a summer's breeze. Voices drew him onward toward the platform upon which the arch rested. They whispered to him while speaking no intelligible words, beckoning him forward, wishing he would come and join them. As if under a spell he raised his hand to brush aside the ratty cloth. He saw something he wished to and yet never wanted ever to see in the waking world.  
  
He saw his godfather. But he was nothing like he wished to remember him. Sirius was suspended in the air through the arch, eyes dulled and unseeing. He bore wounds all over his body like he had been torn and ravaged by some angry beast with claws that had wished to cause as much pain as possible before causing death. His face twisted in frozen pain and fixed on Harry as if accusing. His godfather's corpse called out to him, as if some memory still remained, as if he didn't know he was dead, while being perfectly aware that he could not be living. 'Why' it asked. 'Why did you not come to get me? We could have been happy' Harry watched in horror as the body fell away in rot and dust of bone, skin peeling away and falling off. 'You left me. I was always there for you? Why did you leave me?' But the face remained until the end, always with the hurt and pain crying out the silent 'Why'. But then the veil shivered again and the unseen, unfelt breeze moved Sirius away from Harry. He knew he did not want this memory of his godfather, mangled and decaying but he wanted so much to simply see him again. He walked forward through the arch...  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He knew immediately that the dream had changed. Harry had a sudden awareness that only came when watching Voldemort's plots or moods. He was not at first sure what was happening. He was in the dark, but it was not the dark beyond the arch. That dream was long gone, far away for the time, though a part of it nagged at him. His dreams had carried him to Sirius' death room many times and he had lifted the veil every time. Never once was he compelled to follow the dead. This new development scared him.  
  
As his eyes became used to the light, or lack thereof to be honest, he found that he was in a small room. While not as unpleasant as the Ministry had been it was rank with mildew and other foul smells. There was a drip in the corner that turned out to be a window; it was raining outside. A slight rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.  
  
And everywhere there were sounds of voices. Like the voices of the death room they rang throughout, disembodied and strange. Unlike those previous whispers, these he could pinpoint, to some degree. Distant muttering, sometimes fitfull, sometimes sleepy and sudden came from every direction but muffled wailing came up from the stony floor. Frenzied shrieks and sobbing burst out occasionally as well, as the minutes passed.  
  
Harry was confused. Every time he had had a dream like this Voldemort had been there right away, calling his attention away from such things. He had never had so much time to take in his surroundings. He almost wanted Voldemort to be there so he could stop observing such horrible things.  
  
A flash of lightning illumined a sleeping figure on a low bed by the wall. Harry jumped, tripping on the hem of his pajamas and falling with a small thump onto the cool wet stones of the floor. He had thought he was alone. In the relative quiet of this room to the rest of the area it had not occurred to him that someone could be right there, feet away.  
  
The figure shifted, he assumed to roll over and face him. A sleepy voice, female, called out to him "What do you want, boy? Go away, back to your own cell before the guards get here." She rolled back onto her side so her back was facing him. "Your staring is plenty rude enough and I'd rather not have them coming in to join in as well."  
  
Harry was speechless. What was going on? Was this a normal dream or was it really happening? He found his tongue again. "You can see me?!"  
  
The woman smacked a hand on the wall in annoyance and sat up in the bed. "Of course I can see you, you fool boy. It's not dark enough in here for you to be hiding, now is it?"  
  
Not quite agreeing with that last statement Harry ignored it and moved on to more important details. "But this is a dream. Isn't it? I was dreaming and now I'm here. I didn't wake up-"  
  
"Hold on, you...." A brief flash of lightning showed the woman's face. Painfully thin and sunken she was still young, no doubt less than 10 years older than himself. She looked at him as if he were an amazing creature she had never seen before. "You were...sleeping?"  
  
Harry nodded, wondering if she knew something. He certainly did not. "Yes, I was. I was having another dream entirely and then I was here."  
  
The woman on the bed got up and walked nervously over to him. His eyes, more acclimated to the gloom now, told him she was too thin to be healthy, and her robes were ragged besides. She did not seem to notice his staring. She circled him, disbelieving for some time. Then, tentatively she stuck out a hand to touch his forehead.  
  
Her hand went through his head.  
  
Harry gaped as the astonished woman leapt backwards and hit a stone wall with a crash, sliding to the floor as her legs collapsed beneath her. He hadn't expected that....  
  
"B-but it can't be...i-it-it makes no sense...h-how...?" She trailed off, still staring at him, now more with confusion than amazement. After a moment she continued muttering under her breath. Harry couldn't hear any of it save 'calling' and 'not possible' more than once. That last one seemed to be a favorite.  
  
As he knelt beside her her voice grew loud enough to include him in the conversation. "It's just not possible! I was sleeping. Normal. I didn't...I couldn't..."  
  
"Didn't what?"  
  
She jumped and brought him into focus. She apparently had not noticed his movement. "I didn't call you. Otherwise this would not be such a surprise, at least to me." At his blank look she continued, voice growing steadier all the while. "You don't know what calling is? I'm a dreamwalker. I can enter the world of dreams at will and make dream touch reality, among other things."  
  
"So...."  
  
"So if I wanted to I could call to me any sleeping person in the world, whether I had met them or not, and have a chat with them. Even if I was awake."  
  
This new idea was confusing. So dreams were real but they weren't? How could a dreaming person talk to a person who was awake? What in the world was going on here? Where WAS here?  
  
The last seemed to be the easiest question to answer so Harry asked the woman. She shuddered, taking a moment to glance around the cell as if she suspected someone was listening. "You have not yet figured that out?" She snorted. "I'd heard Harry Potter was more intelligent than most his age. The lot of them must be great dolts if that is true.. Azkaban, deary. This wonderful place with all the great scenery and excellent music is the wizarding world's version of prison."  
  
"Th-this is Azkaban? But then...you...?"  
  
She glared at him, not something he had expected. "Yes, I'm an inmate. One of the filthy so-called convicts that walk this place because we or someone else did some horrendous crime and got us landed with the consequences."  
  
Unbidden, Harry was reminded of Sirius and the hell he had spent for so long in Azkaban when he had done nothing more terrible than choose the wrong person to protect his friends. "There are still innocents in Azkaban? How can that be?"  
  
There was silence for a few moments as the moon came out from behind a cloud, bathing the cell in silvery light. The woman sat across from him with a pained look on her face, gazing about at the cell walls and seeming to look right through him. Finally her eyes came back to him and she slumped back onto the wall.  
  
"There're not many prisons in the world who can brag that they have no innocent souls inside their barred doors. Do you really think that a wizarding prison could be any different from the Muggle version? With all our truth potions and dark detectors we still fall short of perfect. Now. This 'still' you mentioned. You knew someone else from Azkaban?"  
  
Harry's mind immediately shied away from the first that came to mind. Sirius. That was too hard to dwell upon. The memories might become less painful with time but now was too recent to pull those memories out into the open again. So he chose the other. "Yes. Hagrid. A few years ago. He was framed."  
  
She snorted. "Aren't we all?" She looked deep in thought for a moment, then something like triumph shone across her face. "Yes, I remember Hagrid. Large fellow, kind enough. I remember him from my Hogwarts days." Her tone spoke what relish she had in this idea, like it was a revelation that she could pull up a memory of the half-giant.  
  
"Was that really so long ago? You don't look very old." Harry couldn't believe he had just complimented a convict, sitting feet away from him in the most feared prison in the world.  
  
But then he remembered that he was dreaming and the world made sense again.  
  
"Let me think now. I've been in here since the summer after I graduated which was.I don't know anymore. The time doesn't pass like usual in here. You were there my last year. Your first. How long?"  
  
Harry did the math as best he could in his head. "Four years? You've been in here for four years?" He hesitated a moment before asking a question that had been nagging him since he found out where he was. A whiny little voice in the back of his head screamed it's thoughts but he had to be sure. "For what crime?"  
  
"Merely being at the wrong place at the wrong time." Seeing that this was not going to satisfy him she sighed and continued in a hard voice. "Use of the Cruciatus curse on my father, mother, and brother. Use of the Killing curse on my father, mother, and brother. Use of the Cruciatus curse to better use the Imperius curse on my boyfriend. Attempted murder of one Minister of Magic. Evidence of Death Eater activity. And a nice confession from myself to seal it all and send me here to serve four life sentences. The Ministry didn't count the dog and cat in the charges but you get the idea."  
  
If summed up in a very vague manner the voice had been right. She was in for murder. But the others.. All the Unforgivables. No less than four people. And three of them her own kin.  
  
Faced with the terrible list just thrown out at him Harry thought he might have preferred she be a plain old murderer.  
  
Harry didn't realize right away that he had backed away from the woman in the corner. In fact the only reason he became aware of the movement was that the room was too small for him to get very far; he thumped his head on the damp stone wall before he managed to suppress that fool whiner in his head.   
  
The woman turned her glare on him again. Harry wondered idly if she knew how effective that look was. It was almost as wicked as the ones Snape used on him, though hers seemed less likely to explode with loathing.   
  
"Why do you edge away from me now? You know why I was put in here, sure. That is by no means what really happened. If you must know I am not the one responsible for any of those crimes." She paused for a moment. "At least not of my own free will. I cannot deny that my hand was the one holding the wand. But mine was not the mind behind the actions."  
  
That was easy enough for Harry to translate. "I didn't do it. Some slimy git put me under the Imperius and forced me to kill a bunch of people after torturing them. Then they made me say I did it since they didn't want to take the blame." It was somewhat more difficult to believe it, especially from an Azkaban inmate who had spent most of her 4 years with the Dementors and might not be completely alright upstairs.  
  
"What happened then, if this is true?"  
  
Her gaze softened somewhat. "That I will not tell you. However much I have enjoyed carrying on a conversation with you there is nothing you can do to get me out of here so any story I tell would just open healing wounds for me. Not to mention give you some unpleasant visuals. Let us just leave it at that." Suddenly flinching she stared at her hand in amazement. "It seems I did call you."  
  
"Your hand told you that?"  
  
She laughed; Harry was surprised to hear that it sounded genuine. He doubted Azkaban's walls had ever heard anything of the sort before. Then he wondered if he were going insane and turned his attention back to what made sense. Or would when it was explained.  
  
"No, my hand told me nothing of the sort, not directly anyway. You see, when a dreamwalker Calls someone they share a link with that person. Since your mind was brought here it becomes necessary for someone to monitor your body, something you are now unable to do. That's where I come in. Should someone try to wake you-or murder you for that matter-I'd know right away and let you go back to your body. It is a simple matter."  
  
"And your hand is telling you...?"  
  
She smiled. "You have a very impatient owl pecking at your hand right now and I'd do best to release you before reducing your skin to bloody shreds. Which means our time is up. Goodbye Harry Potter. Been nice talking with you."   
  
And with that Harry felt as though a slight breeze was pushing him backwards and away. Everything went dark for a moment before Harry realized he was back in his room, in his bed.   
  
And his hand hurt like hell.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Otay. I hope I held up my part of the bargain. I know, 'twas a terrible place to end but I can't help it. I deliberated for several days where it would be best to end the first chappy. This isn't a great place but it was the best I could do. Sorry 'bout that one. Reviews are nice. Note: Flames do not count as reviews. They are simply what keeps me warm in bed at night and have no ill effects on me whatsoever. Don't bother with them. Please? 


	2. A Letter and a LeaveTaking

Author's note: Sorry for the delay all. I didn't intend to wait a month to update but then school started and it was back to 1-2 hours a week to type my stories. And since all my stories are typed directly into email and NOT written down at all it is very limiting for getting out long chapters. Then I hit the near-one-month mark and felt really guilty so I had to update. And here is the product of my work. It is still a bit later than I planned on releasing it because I got a bit writer-happy in the middle with a new plot idea (no, the plot is not completely worked out, that is one of my problems but it I have the big idea, it's the minor plot details that I still have to work a few kinks out of.) and was set back a few hours and days to work it in. But, finally and without further longwinded speeches no one will read....THE DISCLAIMER. ^_^  
  
Disclaimer: I made a false statement in my last disclaimer, bad me. I DO own the idea for the story just not the Harry Potter ideas, characters, and so forth. No suing, you won't get anything. And besides, I'm honest and came out and said it so nyah. Now you can read the fic. *someone starts tape of suspenseful music but is jinxed for their pains* This is a music- free happy hour. Please, sit down, shut up and read. Unless you really like music. ^_^ *is listening to it right now* Anywho...  
  
The Hours of Darkness  
  
Chapter Two: A Letter and a Leave-Taking  
  
Harry glared at Hedwig while he bandaged his bloody hand. It was not a pretty sight, scratches everywhere, some of them so deep they still bled freely. He had, of course, had far worse injuries in his life but it was the thought that counted. She was supposed to deliver the letter, not mangle the quill hand of the one receiving it.   
  
Hedwig seemed of the opinion that she was in the right. She perched at the head of Harry's bed the whole while, amber eyes almost shining in amusement. Harry's anger subsided as he finished his hand and turned to relieve her of her burden, such as it was.   
  
The untidy scrawl upon the parchment was hasty but nonethless identifiable as his old professor's, Remus Lupin. Harry had a brief moment to wonder why Remus would be sending him an owl in the middle of the night before he read on.  
  
Harry, It is Dumbledore's wish that you remain where you are. Tonight several wards around your aunt and uncle's home were broken. Something was trying to get in. The Order is investigating the matter butin the meantime you will come to a secure location as soon as possible. As I said, it is imperative for you to stay in the house until a group is sent to get you. It is just a precaution, of course, but it is still unwise when we do not know what was powerful enough to evade the wards long enough to break them. Everything known at the time you arrived will be explained.   
  
That was all the letter said, there was not even a signature. Harry wasn't the least bit surprised by this. Indeed he was worried as to how bad the situation was that Remus felt he had to speak so bluntly despite the risk of the owl being intercepted. The words spoke plainly that Harry knew of the Order and if the letter fell into the wrong hands it could very well reveal a weakness in the security of the Dursley home that could prove fatal. So what exactly had happened tonight?  
  
Harry tossed Hedwig an owl treat. He'd already completely forgotten the pain caused by her delivery. She took it gratefully and settled down on her cage to sleep. A glance at the clock told him it was about four in the morning, far too early for a normal person to be out of bed. But since when had the word normalcy been attached to Harry Potter?  
  
Somewhere in the house a bell tinkled.  
  
Harry's head snapped up and he peered out the bedroom door from his bed. He tiptoed to the door and there paused a moment. Did the Dursleys own any bells? He padded down the stairway as silent as he could. It turned out the intruder didn't actually need to hear him to know he was coming.  
  
"Isn't it a bit early to be wanting breakfast, Potter?"  
  
Harry froze where he was a few steps from the bottom. He could have identified that voice from anywhere. "Moody?"  
  
"That's my name. Now, don't just stand there like a wood carving, get your things and hurry down here. Dumbledore wants us in and out of here in a few minutes time."   
  
Harry found his feet were no longer rooted to the carpet and obediently went up a few steps before turning. "Us? Just me and you?"  
  
Moody's magical eye could be seen plainly in the gray morning light just before dawn. It whizzed about in it's socket madly, zooming around and around a bit like Pigwidgeon on sweets. Just not as cute and fuzzy. Still, Harry trusted the man, even if most of the wizarding community thought him completely crazy. He had to admit, he did too.  
  
"Aye, you and I. We take a portkey out of here to another location and from there to headquarters."  
  
"Why not directly there?"  
  
Clunking closer to where Harry stood Moody chuckled. "I would've thought with all the time you'd spent with us you'd figure that one out on your own. Security precaution is all. When those wards were broken it would have been possible to quickly change things about a bit. You know, plant a few bugs, tracking charms."  
  
Thinking now might be a good time to get started Harry quickly went up the last few steps and started on his things. Moody just waited patiently at the bottom of the steps. Apparently the risk wasn't so great that Harry needed a guard into his room, which he was quite grateful for.  
  
Still.... Was it really possible that people could move in that quickly upon the house and create traps undetectable by Dumbledore? He could have sworn it wasn't possible for Voldemort to even find him. But then Voldemort always was proving magical boundaries too flimsy.   
  
As if to goad his fears even further his scar chose that moment to prickle as though stabbed by a thousand needles one after another. Quickly glancing around the room he grabbed his stuff and bolted out the door. Something was wrong.  
  
"Something the matter, Potter?"  
  
Harry hurried down the steps as best he could while hauling a massive chest and Hedwig's cage. Not to mention trying to be quiet about it so the Dursleys wouldn't wake up...."I-it's nothing. Just my scar...."  
  
Moody's normal eye widened slightly and his magical one spun with renewed fervor. "Hurry up and get down here. We've been here too long, I think." He glanced at his watch. "Almost time to go."  
  
He dug in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a simple rock. "Here. That should work in a few moment's time."  
  
The ordinary stone clashed horribly with the actual purpose of the portkey. Of course, since portkeys could be anything, it wasn't entirely surprising. Harry stood there stupidly a for a little while, waiting for it to work, listening to the sounds of the house.  
  
Up the stairs and down the hall Dudley was still snoring as loudly and evenly as ever. Uncle Vernon placed a close second in volume while his aunt was either no longer asleep or just so quiet he had nothing to hear. He was suddenly reminded of the woman in Azkaban that he had talked to, was it only an hour ago? He found it strange that he had forgotten that peculiar dream so quickly. Harry was still unsure if it had happened or not.  
  
Moody, who had been leaning against the banister at the end of the staircase, suddenly stirred to life. His magical eye was staring somewhere through the back of his head. The living room. An old board in the room creaked. There was a whisper of fabric and a hiss of breath.   
  
"STUPEFY!" Moody bellowed. The living room was silent save for the crumpling of a large body. Magical eye whirling about warily he stepped into the room and prodded the figure on the ground. "It's as we suspected. He seems to be the only one in the house for the moment but Voldemort rarely sends one person to do his dirty work. He has far too little confidence in his followers to trust one to manage something he himself has not." He glared at the grandfather clock in the hall. "We're late. What is keeping that-"  
  
Harry felt the now familiar pulling and rush of air as the portkey finally worked. His feet were pulled from the ground and he headed away from the darkened house to somewhere to the west.  
  
His feet suddenly touched ground and he tripped over the pant leg of his pajamas, causing him to fall over, headfirst, onto his trunk. "OW!"  
  
"That was graceful."  
  
Harry rubbed his head and glared at Lupin, who was leaning against the trunk of a willow. His head was aching from the impact and the speed at which he had just traveled was not helping one bit. "I'd like to see you do better."  
  
He chuckled and looked around, suddenly serious. "Where's Moody?"  
  
"There was a Death Eater in the house. Moody stunned him. I don't know where he is."  
  
Remus frowned. "I suppose he could just be taking the man back to the ministry. Did you see who it was?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "I was on the steps the whole time. The angle wasn't good enough to see his face."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
Brushing a bit of crumbly bark off the back of his robes Remus walked over and helped Harry stand up. Harry barely had time to note that his whole backside was uncomfortably wet with dew before Moody Apparated with a crack next to him.  
  
"Nice family you've got there, Potter. Your aunt threw a pot at me. Apparently they don't like being woken up at 5 in the morning to a duel in their downstairs."  
  
Harry had a nice visual of his aunt, hair in sickening pink curlers, lobbing a vase or some other breakable at the man. It was almost funny. Or it would have been if he didn't have to worry about Death Eaters coming to get him while he slept. But HOW, was what kept running through his head. How was it possible that Voldemort could find him?  
  
Hedwig hooted angrily at him from her awkward angle on the chest. He'd completely forgotten she was there. While the two aurors chatted about the Death Eaters Harry made himself busy soothing her. She apparently did not like being thrown about in such an undignified manner. He silently agreed, who would WANT to stay in a cage while being dragged cross-country in an instant?  
  
"Harry?" Remus held out another rock, this one was polished at least to give it something of a mystical look.  
  
Harry groaned. "Not again."  
  
Hi, sorry this chappie was so short. It seems a little disjointed to me but...then again, all I have eaten today is two partially cooked muffins and who knows what they did to my head? Never let me cook for you.... ^_^  
  
Anywho, please review. This time I promise to have the next chappie up really soon because this place was really sucko to end at, no? Next chappie we learn what broke the wards on the house and just how the woman in Azkaban (who DOES have a name, by the way) ties into it all. Oh, and maybe, if I am feeling nice I will make it extra specially long. I was distracted this weekend (I was going to write last night but just HAD to watch Endless Waltz 2 time sin a row and by then it was after 1 so....yeah) but next weekend I should be okie-day. Ciao and review!!!! -Sputnik  
  
P.S. I LOVE ALL YOU PEOPLE WHO REVIEWED ME LAST TIME!!! And a lot of thanks to Ciara who continues to BETA my fics because I lock her in her basement with my terrible works of literature. Well, her computer IS in the basement....there just aren't any doors to lock. Darn....  
  
**Note from BETA: I HATE COMPUTERS THAT UNDERLINE MY NAME AS BEING MISPELLED! DAMN THEM!!! And Sputnik's been getting my name wrong, it's soleil-luna-day, not with underscores (_) thankees.** 


	3. Explanations

Author's Notes: Ok, didn't mean to make everyone (wow, I'm making that sound like people other than my friends actually read it....) wait so long. I have a whole list of excuses I'm sure you don't want to hear anyway so for once I will shut my trap. Happy? Ok, about the fic, this is chappie three. Obviously. I'm sure when I started typing this I had an idea of what I wanted to say. By the time I get to the bottom? No guarantees. So, on with EVERYBODY'S favorite, the disclaimer.   
  
Disclaimer: Has hell frozen over yet? Then I ain't the owner of Harry Potter and all related places, ideas, and characters. Otherwise Sirius would not have to go on vacation with Elvis just so people who read the books would think he was dead. Which he is not.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
  
The Hours of Darkness Chapter Three: Explanations   
  
By Sputnik2006   
  
When Harry's feet finally touched ground again he noticed two things. First of all he felt like he was going to throw up. Apparently it wasn't a good idea to use a portkey to travel more than once. But then again he hadn't felt like that when he first used one. He shrugged mentally. 'Must be all the strangeness from tonight catching up to me."   
  
Second he realized, rather belatedly, that he was not at Grimmauld Place like he had thought he would be. Wherever he was it seemed nice.   
  
The room was fine enough for any mansion. Beautifully engraved oak paneling lined the walls, depicting all sorts of wizarding scenes. One showed a man reading with a girl that looked a little like Ginny. In another a rather confused looking woman (who, Harry realized with a laugh, looked a little like Lockhart, stupid face and all) was attempting to pet a dragon. The floor was a dark blue carpet that his feet sunk into. A huge chandelier, candles flickering in a breeze only they could feel, lit the large space. By the great fireplace were a couple of chairs and a table. Otherwise the room seemed bare of adornment.   
  
That was all he had time to take in before he found himself bowled over by a very hard tea tray being pushed by an extremely nervous house elf. "OH! I's sorry, sir! I is not meaning to hurt you, sir! You are fine? Here, sir, sit here!" All this said in a few seconds flat. Harry found himself being pushed toward the nearest armchair, rather uncomfortably considering how short the house elf was. It seemed to only be able to reach his knees; Harry tried not to laugh. Very few people knew how ticklish he was behind his knees.   
  
"I see Greebo is making you feel right at home." Harry hadn't even realized Remus was there. The aforementioned house elf bowed low before quickly exiting the room. "She's not the most competent house elf I've ever met but she tries."   
  
He sat down in the chair next to Harry, on his left. Harry watched him idly stir his tea before letting his calm mask slip a little. It was obvious he was troubled about the Death Eater that had so suddenly appeared in the Dursley residence.   
  
An uncomfortable silence fell upon the two. Fidgeting, Harry's eyes wandered around the room, taking in the rest of the wall carvings. Most were beautiful, especially one of a phoenix being reborn, already covered in it's glorious feathers. However unrealistic the picture was (Fawkes certainly hadn't looked that nice the times Harry had seen him die and come back to life) it was still a wonder to behold; he wasn't sure but he thought it looked like it was decorated with real rubies scattered among it's plumage.   
  
There was one though that stuck out the most. It seemed different from the rest. Almost hidden in the corner it seemed a little darker than the rest, in theme and color itself. From where he was sitting he couldn't quite see what it was in full detail but from what he could see....   
  
An arch, hideously plain, a veil, ripped and so realistic it seemed to move on the wood. 'The grain of the wood it was carved into gave it a waving quality', Harry told himself. That is all.   
  
It was strange though. It seemed like something was coming from out of the arch. Two somethings. One of light and one of choking dark.   
  
'What is this all about?' Harry thought. A sickening feeling in his stomach confirmed one thing though: it was definitely the same place he had 'visited' earlier that night. Sirius' death place.   
  
'He is not dead!' he forced himself to repeat to himself. He knew it was wrong. Dumbledore said he was gone. It did no one any good to hold onto false hopes.   
  
But wouldn't they rather false hopes instead of pure hatred for the one who had killed him? Even in his still grieving mind he knew that was stupid. They wouldn't want him to hold onto either. He only wished he knew who the 'they' his mind created actually were.   
  
'Harry?"   
  
Harry pulled his eyes away from the woodcarving in the corner, suddenly, for some reason, guilty. Dumbledore was standing over him, blue eyes curiously following Harry's gaze and dismissing it. For a moment the older man's eyes held Harry's. He could practically read the message 'That is for later' as if it were in neon. Then Dumbledore turned away and sat in the last armchair.   
  
"I am sure you already got Remus' letter from earlier?" He paused long enough for Harry to nod and wonder, grimly, how much of the truth he would actually be told. "We still have some question as to the exact identity of the entity that tried to get into your house tonight but we do have some clues. The wards were designed to first block all Apparition within a radius of 100 yards. That alarm did not go off so the creature did not Apparate. The second task would be to get past the more specific, more numerous wards to keep out anyone with the Dark Mark, magical creatures, or Dementors."   
  
"Dementors even? How do you even get wards to do that anyway?"   
  
"That really isn't important but the wards set off alarms here, where I can hear them, and also serve to repel any unwanted guests. As I was saying," he settled back in his chair before continuing. "None of those were triggered at all, which can only mean one thing. Whatever we are dealing with is not entirely of this world or state of existence."   
  
Harry took a moment to let that sink in.   
  
It didn't work.   
  
He sat there with a blank look on his face for a while before Dumbledore smiled slightly and explained. "There are several states of existence. Life of course, being the most obvious, is what the wards were set for. There is also Inanimate, such as rocks and air, things that never had a life of there own but can support life anyway. Death is second only to Life of course. All life must eventually be balanced by a death. The least common of the four is Spirit. Spirit would be like the ghosts you have seen at Hogwarts, or the Grim, as some people think. Whatever broke the wards was of Spirit. That still leaves a very broad range of enemies you might have but there is one thing we do know. Because of the attack of the Death Eater it can safely be said that Voldemort is the one behind the intruder." He sipped his tea for a minute before continuing.   
  
"Which leads me to my next point. Voldemort himself cannot reach you but his followers can. His knowledge of dark magic could come up with all sorts of ghosts or dream creatures that can be easily fed by fear but not so easily killed."   
  
His mention of dreams reminded Harry of the woman from before. "I guess we can rule out ghosts then. I had...a dream. It was strange, like the kind where I...am...Voldemort, that sort of clarity. But he was not there."   
  
Dumbledore gave his empty tea cup to Greebo. "Describe this dream."   
  
Harry then spent the next ten minutes trying to remember everything the woman had said, occasionally having to backtrack for a missed part or a better explanation of something. He became so involved that he jumped when Remus asked him a question. He had forgotten his former professor was there.  
  
"Can you describe her at all?" Remus asked again, patiently but with a dark look on his face.   
  
Straining his brain as best he could only came up with a vague description. "It was really dark, I didn't get to see that much of her. She was very skinny, unhealthily so. She didn't seem to be surprised to see me at first but then I said I was dreaming and she was amazed by that. I'm sorry, I only remember what she acted like, it was impossible to tell much else."   
  
Remus and Dumbledore glanced at each other before Remus spoke. "You said she was a dreamwalker, right? It is very rare for a dreamwalker to be born. Simply put, it is more likely for Siamese twins to be joined at the head. Unlikely at best. Sidra Bancroft was the most recent to successfully master the gift enough to make a living off of it. She had already accepted a job at the Ministry, work in prophesies and such."   
  
Harry blinked. "Prophecies?" He'd had his fair share of prophecies last year. Why did he have to hear this now?   
  
"Prophetic dreams. Part of the dreamwalker deal. Very broad area, that. Anyway, the year she graduated she apparently decided it was better to go to Voldemort instead of stick with the side of good. A few days after her 18th birthday she came home to declare her support and leave. Her family tried to stop her so she killed them. Nasty deaths, I'm told. Been in Azkaban ever since."   
  
There Dumbledore took up the conversation. "What interests me is how a dreamwalker could call someone without realizing it. It will have to be added to the many questions I have when next I talk with her. It will, of course, be necessary to at least have a new testimony from her. We cannot just trust the word of an Azkaban inmate but I believe there is something there that needs explaining. Especially what she knows about what happened last night."  
  
Suddenly tired, Harry glanced at his watch. It was almost noon. No wonder, he had barely slept last night. Trying not to fall asleep where he sat he listened to Remus and Dumbledore's conversation for a little while.  
  
A soft tug on the edge of his shirt startled him. Looking down he found the huge eyes of Greebo. Her hand was on the hem of his shirt, trying to tug him out of the room. "This way, Mr. Harry Potter, sir. We have a room for you if you is wanting sleep. Or if you is wanting food we can get you some."   
  
Surprisingly his hunger had not returned yet. With a nod from Dumbledore he followed the rather twitchy house elf into a cozy room with a four- poster that reminded him of the bed he had at Hogwarts. Settling himself onto the bed he drifted quickly towards sleep. He had time only to hope that the nightmares would not come before everything went completely black.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
He knew right away that his hopes would not help.   
  
Again. The familiar rooms and hallways of the ministry. Everything flashed by so quickly this time. One moment he was just arriving, the next he was lifting his hand to move the veil. Something was different this time.  
  
Moving the veil proved difficult, as though it was weighed down by lead. Lifting it to find....nothing.  
  
Harry stared. He understood now why it had seemed so strange. There was no dread, no guilt. A peace flowed through him.   
  
'Why?' he thought. 'This makes no sense.' Had his dreams really advanced so quickly? First there was the trip THROUGH the veil, that had been odd. Now he was completely past it. Where was Sirius? He did not really wish to see him. It was the suddeness of the change that worried him.   
  
There was another thing that bothered him then. He remembered the woodcarving on the wall of , Harry assumed, Dumbledore's house. The light and the dark, both emerged from the arch. He made a note then and there that as soon as he woke up he was going to see that up close.   
  
Coincidences were never attracted to Harry Potter, this he knew. Whatever happened around him happened for a reason.   
  
It was the reason that continued to elude him.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
So sorry about the poor house elf's name. I am notoriously bad at coming up with normal names (look up my neopets if you need any proof) so I just used on one the names of a petpet that I randomly chose. Aren't you proud? No, me either. And the title of the chapter? BAD, I know. It was going to be something completely different but I talked more than I meant to so I never got to explain it. So, if I get another chappie osted soon (I am going to start working on it in a little bit) it will have the more fun title. *spins around in rolly desk chair* Oks. Reviews=fun. I like. Sirius will come back if you review enough. Better yet, if you review I will make him dance across the screen for you. Ok, whatever, I won't. You can though. Just use your imagination. *rainbow* Sorry. Spongebob. *walks away whistling from the people who have no idea what she is talking about* 


	4. Candle in the Dark

Author's note: I DO realize it has taken me approximately 4 months to update. I felt sad realizing it myself, thank you much. Instead of giving excuses I'm sure you don't care about I think I will just say this. To combat the general shittiness of Writer's Block because of having Dumbledore in this chapter I was forced to create less than interesting titles. So. Live with the Dark Hounds. If ever I change their title you shall be the first to know. I thought, and thought, and thought, and then my brain gave out so I went to a doctor and then after it healed I thought some more but I could NOT think of a decent name for the damn things. So I thought of the first thing and and said 'screw it, it shall be written' and it was. So. My fic....*cough*  
  
Disclaimer: ............*sob*................Need I say more?  
  
The Hours of Darkness  
  
Chapter Four: Candle in the Dark By Sputnik2006  
  
By the time Harry woke up it was already late afternoon, heading towards evening. He was pleasantly surprised to have not had any terrible dreams for the first time in who knew how long. Wishing it was like that every night he followed the hallway back to the room he had been in earlier.   
  
Greebo was polishing the table when he got there. She squeaked and (after absentmindedly throwing the rag she was using into the fireplace) bowed low. "You is awake. Is you wanting any food, Mr. Harry Potter sir?"  
  
Harry retrieved her discarded rag from the fireplace, happy it wasn't lit at the time, and handed it to her. "Sure. Whatever you get is fine. I'm not picky."  
  
Hugging the rag as though it were a precious gift Greebo nodded and swiftly exited the room through a passage conceiled by one of the panels. Harry hoped she would remember to wash the polish off her hands before getting his food.   
  
He wasn't remotely surprised when his attention was drawn to the corner panel. Up close he could tell it was older than the rest, that would account for its darker coloring. It was then that he could finally tell what was coming from the arch but it didn't seem to make much sense.   
  
Birds. White birds, beautiful birds. And the others...grey-brown as the wood with a sleek, dangerous grace about them. Two seperate flocks, none of the birds seemed to want to touch the others.  
  
Why two flocks of birds would ever appear from that cursed arch, Harry had no idea. He had to admit though, it WAS exquisite work. The birds seemed to flow from the arch, as though they rode the grain of the wood like a breeze. He brushed his finger across one of the white birds.  
  
Flashes of light, strange voices.  
  
Harry jumped back. 'What...?' He was afraid of it. What had happened just then?   
  
His curiousity temporarily overrode his caution though. He put a finger on the white bird again.  
  
Everything was blurry. What were those noises? Warmth...furry bodies moving nearby. A wet tongue moved across his fur.  
  
'Wait, fur?' Harry didn't even hesitate then; he tried the dark bird.  
  
Paws across the silvered ground. Never touching, always above. A distant goal. He stopped a moment to inhale the scent. Where was his prey, the black haired-one?  
  
He tried to pull back. He was stuck, like his finger had a will of its own.  
  
Water here. An easy task. Cool and fresh but not to him. He could not feel, not of the flesh. Something else, a hunger. Where was the black- haired one? It was far away, how had it escaped him in one night?  
  
As if it too had a mind seperate from Harry's his other hand came up to touch the white bird.  
  
The ice-cold mind grew frantic. What was this candle in the dark? A blinding light; it felt something, really FELT. What was this being of searing white? He turned and fled. Black-hair and blood would have to wait.  
  
Before the strange visions had time to pass there was one more fleeting feeling of warmth and comfort from the white bird. 'Did I do good?' it seemed to ask.   
  
'Yes,' Harry answered silently. 'Yes you did.'  
  
Curling up, all the warm furry bodies felt nice. And someone said he had done good. He liked that someone, where could he find it?  
  
Then his confused mind woke up again. It didn't understand any of the images it had just seen. Something new, in light of all the strange things that had already happened in the last day, scared him.   
  
"What a day I've been having,"he mumbled to himself. Harry rubbed his forehead to clear his spinning mind and sat down in one of the armchairs.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
When Greebo came back with his dinner, Harry automatically wished he had been more specific. The house elf had managed to put together quite a feast. Chicken and potatoes and green beans, all in portions big enough to make three people satisfied. He was a little embarrassed as well. It still felt wrong when he was cooked for instead of being the one doing the actual cooking. He sincerely hoped she hadn't gone to too much trouble. He remembered what Remus had said, she wasn't the most competent but she definitely tried. Maybe she tried too hard....  
  
"Sleep well?"  
  
Choking on a green bean, Harry looked up from his plate to see Lupin come into the room and sit down next to him. He swallowed hard and put his fork down. Best not try to eat and talk at the same time...."Er, better than usual, I guess. Nothing nightmarish enough for me to remember."  
  
"You usually have nightmares?" The intensity of Remus' eyes on his face made Harry wish he hadn't said that. With all the crazy things he had been through wasn't it almost expected that he had the occasional mightmare? Ok, so it wasn't really occasional but it still couldn't be entirely unexpected.   
  
"None of the Voldemort dreams, I mean," he said, hoping the man would take that answer. To Harry's great relief Remus let the matter go.   
  
He took a little while to finish a little more of his meal before continuing the conversation. The images and feelings he had gotten from the wood panel were still stuck in his head for some reason. It had been strange though. He had been the dark creature and not the other one, did that mean something? 'No,'he thought,' I wasn't really him, it was more like...my mind was riding along beside his.'   
  
A thought suddenly dawned on him. Hadn't the cold-minded one been searching for him? Was THAT what had come to the Dursley's last night? Coming for....  
  
Blood.   
  
He let his fork clatter to his plate, his appetite completely gone. Whatever that thing was it was coming for him again. He had to tell someone. Dumbledore had known something about the picture hadn't he? He must know what to do. Right? Trying to sound as casual as possible he asked Remus where Dumbledore was.   
  
"He went to Azkaban a few hours ago. He had to talk to the girl about a few things, he said. Should be back in a little while. I can't really imagine what it is that's taking him so long in the first place."  
  
So he'd be back soon. That was a relief.   
  
Harry excused himself, went back to his room and flopped down on his bed. He wondered what exactly the things were. He liked the feelings he had gotten from the white bird. That one had acted like a little child, all smiles and eager to please. So different from the other one. It had an ice to it's mind that reminded him of Voldemort. All cold calm and reason and a mind as sharp as a blade. But he hadn't felt REAL. The first one had been so happy because it was warm and felt loving things. The other hadn't felt anything at all.   
  
So Dumbledore had been truthful. Whatever wanted him wasn't corporeal. Which meant the other thing was a real living, breathing creature. Not to mention furry. That made him smile. It seemed so much like a children's book to have a happy, warm, fuzzy thing watching over him.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
It was almost midnight again before Dumbledore came home again. Harry spent the time wandering the house, just doing little things to keep himself occupied. He couldn't just sit in his room for hours on end.   
  
The sheer size of Dumbledore's home was enough to make Harry forget the events of the last day, if only for a short time. He walked for at least two hours before he found a room he had seen before and that was only on one floor. It seemed like it simply stretched on forever, no matter how long he walked there would never be an end to the hallway. Smiling slightly he realized that since this WAS a wizarding home it was entirely possible the hallways could do that. Then he just hoped they would at least have the courtesy to run through his room so he didn't have to keep walking until he died. But he doubted that would happen seeing as how 1. the house DID have to have limits and 2. Dumbledore would never let him die such a pathetic death in his own house.   
  
He wondered how the old man could live alone in a house this size. In time it had to make one weary, turning the corner to see a splendidly decorated room and having no one to show it to. Or talk to or look after. Yet again he was reminded of Sirius. This was nothing like Grimmauld Place but it had to be somewhat similar. Both, though huge, were quite empty of what a house should feel like. But here, at least, it almost felt as though the house were longing for people. Grimmauld had had more or a 'stay away or else' sort of feel.   
  
Harry felt himself raise an eyebrow. Now he was considering the thoughts and deep feelings of houses? What would come next, him sitting down and actually paying attention to Hermione's S.P.E.W. nonsense? Well, maybe that was going a little too far. He doubted he would ever want to listen to that annoying prattle on a regular basis. Though he HAD and lived through it in 4th year.   
  
"Harry?" Dumbledore said suddenly from the door of the room he was in.   
  
Harry jumped, knocking the vase he had been looking at over. It crashed to the floor and shattered into large shards. "Er..."  
  
Smiling, Dumbledore waved his wand slightly and it flew back together, patched itself up, and settled back on the table it had been on before. "That's ok, no harm done. My own fault really. You wished to talk to me before?"  
  
He didn't bother to wonder how the old man had known. The things he knew when he shouldn't no longer amazed Harry that much. "What did you find out talking to that Bancroft woman?" The moment it was out of his mouth he cursed inwardly. He'd meant to tell him about the vision he'd had. Damn his stupidity...  
  
It seemed as though Dumbledore noted this but chose to play along for the moment. He motioned for Harry to join him on the couch in the center of the room. It wasn't until he sunk down into the soft cushions that he realized how much his feet hurt. Strange house, this one.   
  
"It went as well as can be expected. I had to argue for a while to convince the guards I was perfectly capable of handling an unarmed witch but in the end they consented to let me chat with her."   
  
"Alone?"   
  
"No, of course not. I needed a witness to the use of Veritaserum and for her account of what happened the night her family was murdered. She was indeed innocent but the details are unimportant. The fact that she did not commit the crime is enough to get her out of Azkaban."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to ask what happened but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him. "I understand you are not a child, to be denied such knowledge, but it was her wish not to share the intimate details for fear they might find their way to the press and some parts were rather disturbing."  
  
"Ok, fine. Can I ask just one question then? Why is it she was believed so much? Didn't anyone think it was rather suspicious that she just came home one day pledging allegiance to a dark wizard who had been missing for over a decade?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Truth be told she was always seen as leaning toward the dark, mostly because she had very few friends. I don't believe she had a single close friend in Gryffindor house, maybe a few in Ravenclaw. It was no fault of hers, of course, she was always marked as an odd one, for a couple of reasons.   
  
"First off, she was born of two squibs, in a family notorious for less- talented wizards. It had never happened before, magical children being born to a broken line. Most people think that when squibs are born to a family there will never be any magical children, they are seen as bad luck, or perhaps a curse on the family. No one knew what to think when she was born, even after her brother had proven so talented."  
  
"Her brother wasn't a squib either? Why wasn't he an outcast?"  
  
"You forget, Harry, the fact that she is a dream walker. Dream walkers have always been more aloof than other people. No one wants to get very close to someone who can control your dreams and make nightmares reality.   
  
"It did not help that she was grossly overshadowed by her brother, Richard. He was the perfect everything, excellent grades, fairly good looks. And everyone saw her as just the little sister with the dangerous talent, some skill with jinxes, and no friends. I don't think she ever envied him. I doubt anyone could love their brother as much as she did."   
  
"And the second part?"  
  
"That ties into the dreamwalker bit as well. You see, even long before her time her kind have been shunned by all save those seeking power. It has been suggested that dreamwalkers are only born before war breaks out. An ill omen, you might say. When battle does come the side with that kind of power, the ability to know events before they happen and make enemies go mad over what they see at night....They are always sought out. Whichever side cannot use it will do anything in their power to make sure the other cannot either. Those few who live long enough to choose sides have, sad to say, mainly chosen darkness. Darkness and more power."  
  
"I see," was all Harry said. With a past like that it was no wonder, really.   
  
Dumbledore remained silent a moment longer before shifting slightly on the couch and asking, "There was something else you wished to talk about?"  
  
So Harry related what he had seen when he'd touched the wall panel.  
  
The old man seemed lost in though for a few minutes. There was an odd look on his face. It wasn't exactly fear. Harry couldn't tell what it was. It appeared almost as though Dumbledore was uncertain about something.  
  
Harry did know that when Dumbledore didn't know what to think it could never be a good thing.   
  
"Voldemort is either quite desperate or more ambitious than I had thought he currently was. To bring a dark hound into this war...."   
  
"A what?" Harry knew he didn't pay attention to every lesson at Hogwarts but he was fairly certain dark hounds had never come up.   
  
"A dark hound," Dumbledore said, taking a second to clean his half-moon spectacles, "is a spirit that hunts for dreams. It is the beast that makes the old never wake because their minds are consumed by it. They are dangerous to normal humans only when they are summoned for a specific purpose. When given a task to perform they do so quickly and in such a way that none would ever guess it unless they knew what to look for. The poor people who are attacked bear no physical damage because it is all in their head. In death, even while asleep, they all cradle their heads in a futile effort to stop the agony of having their minds torn apart."  
  
Harry gave an involuntary shudder. "A-and Voldemort sent one of these after me?"  
  
"So it would seem. He must think you are a very large risk to himself to have taken such a risk. The dark hound could have attacked him while he summoned it. They are known to turn on prospective masters. There are precautions that can be taken for you. You said that the hound was confused. That it did not appear to know where you were, correct? This should be the case as long as you remain at my home. At Hogwarts I am less certain. Rest assured, Harry, that all things will be done to make sure you come to no harm."  
  
It was getting late but now he really didn't want to sleep anymore. There was too much on his mind for him to even consider sleeping anyway but he did not like the way this conversation was going. So he stood up to go. "I just have two last questions for you."  
  
His silver-haired headmaster smiled up at him. "And I will be happy to answer them as best I can."  
  
"First, what was the first thing I saw. Whose thoughts did I have when I touched the white bird?"  
  
"I cannot tell you that because I do not know the answer. All I can think to tell you is that maybe you should start believing in some of those Muggle ideas. I do believe you have your own guardian angel." Harry almost laughed at the huge grin on the old man's face when he said that.  
  
"Perhaps I do. Now, most importantly: How do I get back to my room?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
FINALLY! THE CHAPTER BIT FROM HELL HAS MATERIALIZED INTO THE CHAPTER IT WAS MEANT TO BE!!! ~hugs the pretty chapter~ Lol, and try to imagine Dumbly saying Harry has a guardian angel. I imagine his face looks something like this -( ^_^ I almost put that there too.... Well, I wrote my chappie. I feel accomplished again. I probably shouldn't. But anywho...please disregard all my swearing in the Author's notes. I was angry. I feel happy now. Now if only I could get a better title for the stupid dark hound....we'll leave that for tomorrow. So, your turn. Get to work. REVIEW. ~bows and leaves~ 


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